Relief Valve: The Plumber's Mate, Book 2 (29 page)

“Oi, Gary’s a good mate. And yeah, it’s him.”

“So what do you think has happened?” Cherry, bless her, held off from adding the eye-roll and
Did he break a nail?
But I had a fair idea it was a close-run thing.

“Not sure. It might just be a case of the amateur dramatics, but…” I screwed up my face, trying to think how to put it. “See, Gary’s not had a lot of luck with blokes, and this new one, Darren, Gary thinks the sun shines out of his bum. They just got engaged. It’s going to kill the poor bloke if this one’s gone sour too. I’d better give him a call.”

I dialled, but it went straight to voice mail. “Shit,” I said again. Gary
never
turns his phone off—can’t stand the thought of the world keeping on turning without him being in the know. “He’s not answering. Look, do you mind if we just drop in on the way back? He means the Devil’s Dyke pub in Brock’s Hollow.”

“It’s not exactly on the way.” She sighed. “Of course not.”

She didn’t suggest I drop her off at mine and leave her there, which was good, because I wasn’t planning to. That’d be a fine way to keep an eye on her.

Also, she might terrorise the cats. “It shouldn’t take too long,” I reassured her. “If he’s in a really bad way, we’ll just bring him back with us.”

On second thoughts, judging by her expression, she didn’t find that all that reassuring.

Chapter Twenty-Two

When we got to the Dyke, it was easy to see this wasn’t just one of Gary’s storm-in-a-teacup, everyday crises. He was moping in the far corner, being comforted by the Devil’s Dyke herself. Harry, the frankly terrifying landlady of the pub, was patting him on the shoulder with a battle-scarred hand that rivalled Greg’s for size, and Flossie, the pub dog, had her head on the knee not already being drooled on by Julian, Gary’s St Bernard.

I headed straight on over to him. “What’s happened? Er, you remember my sister, Cherry, right?”

Gary looked up with red-rimmed eyes and sniffled in acknowledgement.

“I’ll get some drinks,” Cherry said quickly.

“Cheers. Pint for me, vodka martini for Gary, and…” I looked questioningly at Harry.

“I’ll get ’em,” she said gruffly, unfolding her sizeable frame from the chair. “You take care of your mate.”

“I’ll go and, um, help carry,” Cherry said and followed Harry before anyone could say anything else that might threaten her escape.

I put an arm around Gary. “Come on, tell me all about it. What’s the bastard done?”

He hiccupped. “We had a row.”

“About?”

“About the wedding, what else? He won’t even
consider
us both wearing white.”

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t quite as serious as it’d looked. “Is it really that big a thing?”

It was a clear sign of how upset Gary was that he heard that line and did absolutely nothing with it. “I gave in to him over the doves, and now I’m worried I’ll just give and give, and there’ll be nothing
left
of me!” Gary made an extravagant gesture that narrowly missed sending his drink flying.

Okay, so now I was beginning to see where he was coming from. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling. “Bit of a control freak, is he? I don’t know. Maybe it’s better to find that out now?”

Gary gave a large sniff and downed the rest of his martini, which, as answers went, was less than helpful.

“Has he done this before? You know, tried to make you change stuff?” A thought hit me, and I flushed. “When you go out, does he always insist on driving?”

There was a smaller sniff. “Not really.”

Huh. “Maybe he’s just got a thing about white? You know, doves, clothes…”

“You really think so?”

“Have you actually talked about it?” I gave him a pointed look. “Or have you just been hiding in here with your phone switched off?”

Cherry came over with our drinks at that point. Gary thanked her in a pathetically small voice, and she almost smiled at him. “I’ll be over at the bar if you need me,” she said as I reached to pull her out a chair.

“Oh. Okay. Cheers, Sis.”

Gary watched her go. “I always thought she hated me,” he said, cradling his martini glass.

“What? Cherry? Nah, never,” I said and took a long swig of my pint so my face wouldn’t give me away.

I almost had Gary talked round to giving Darren a call, when there was a commotion at the door.

Darren. Bloody hell, he had guts, turning up here. He strode into the pub like he owned the place, all four foot six of him, and stood glowering at me and Gary, his hands on his hips. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry pause in wiping down the bar. Like any good landlady, she had an eye for potential trouble, and I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to sling Darren, quite literally, out on his arse if the situation called for it.

Darren stomped over to our corner. I was expecting him to come out with something belligerent like
Hands off my bloke, pint-size
, but his face softened and what he actually said was, “You all right, muffin?”

Gary sniffed and said “Fine,” in classic
No
-
I’m-not
tones.

“Sweetheart, if it’s that important to you, I’ll get married in fairy wings and a fucking sparkly thong, all right?”

God, I hoped Gary wasn’t going to take him up on that. He’d already asked me to be his best man, and there was only so much my eyes could take.

“Really?” Gary asked, in a tiny, hopeful voice. Julian whined in sympathy.

Darren nodded. “Really. Nothing’s more important to me than my sugar-muffin’s happiness, you got that?”

Harry’s posture relaxed, and she went back to wiping the bar as Gary stood and embraced his fiancé. There was a smattering of applause and a couple of wolf whistles from the regulars—all of whom know Gary well—and I might even have felt a slight prickling at the corner of my eye.

It was probably Darren’s aftershave, mind.

As the kiss carried on, someone yelled “Get a room!” and I fully expected our two turtledoves to follow the suggestion and disappear off home for some make-up sex. But instead, when they finally separated, Darren announced the drinks were on him and swaggered off to the bar.

Gary excused himself to splash a bit of cold water on his face. Well, what he
actually
said he was going to do was powder his nose, but I was fairly sure he didn’t mean that literally. I hoped.

“Well, all’s well that ends well,” Cherry said brightly, coming back over with her drink and mine. I could see she was itching to leave but was too polite with the large glass of Shiraz Darren had bought her in her hand.

“I bloody wish,” Darren grumbled. He carefully positioned Gary’s martini dead centre on a beer mat and sat down at the table, pint in hand.

“Sore loser?” I said with a wink to show I was only teasing.

“Something like that.” Darren took a long swallow of his pint. “See, you’ve gotta know where I’m coming from, right? God knows I love my pumpkin—worship the bloody ground he walks on—but the plain fact is, he’s not going to look his best in a white suit. You think he’s going to be happy when he gets the wedding video back and he’s got an arse on ’im that could sink the bleedin’
Titanic
?”

I pursed my lips and thought about the arse in question. It looked okay, more or less, in relaxed-fit black denim, but yeah, now I came to actually picture it in tailored white trousers… “Fair dues, you’ve got a point. Trouble is, how are you going to convince him without actually coming out and saying it?”

“Buggered if I know. Nah, I’m stuck with it now. Can’t risk upsetting him again over the same bloody issue. Maybe I can delete the file before he sees it. At least the photos will all be from the front.”

It was a practical solution, but I could see a major flaw there. “Yeah, but Gary’s going to be gutted not to be able to watch himself starring in a movie with you.”

Darren shrugged. “Ain’t like it’s the first one.”

“Bet it’s the first one he could show to his mum, though.”

“Well, she’s pretty broad-minded… Nah, you’re right. Bugger.”

Cherry stood up abruptly. “I’ll see you in a minute.” She took her glass with her, and seconds later, cut Gary off at the pass and manoeuvred him to the bar.

Darren looked at me. “What the bleedin’ hell’s that all about?”

“Don’t ask me.” I shrugged. “Maybe she wants to apologise for the last time she met him. They didn’t get on all that well.”

“You reckon? Nah, don’t believe it. I mean, look at ’im.”

I looked. Cherry and Gary were at the bar, her perching on a bar stool and him standing, hip cocked and wrist limp, in a parody of a pose I reckoned he must have bought at Queens’R’Us.

“See that?” Darren went on. “Who could look at that and not love ’im?”

I took a sidelong glance at Darren. He’d gone a bit misty about the eyes, and there was a smile on his face that made me embarrassed to look at it.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad, after all.

Cherry and Gary were back with us in ten minutes, just as Darren was really getting into one of his porn-filming anecdotes, this one involving a stepladder, a unicycle and a python. Still, it was worth the interruption to see Gary looking so happy, bless his little designer socks.

“Cherry’s come up with the most marvellous idea,” he gushed. “Midnight blue tuxedos, just like James Bond, but with crimson bow ties, not black. Dashing
and
sexy. What do you think, Sweetie-Pie?”

Darren got down from his stool and adjusted his trousers. “I think, Pumpkin, I’m going to take you home right now and ravish the fucking pants off you.”

“But darling,” Gary cooed with a fluttery gesture. “We’re not even married yet. What will people say?”

“They can say it to my arse, ’cos my face ain’t fucking listening. Cheers, Tom.” He grinned at Cherry. “And you can get down the market and buy yourself a hat, love, ’cos you’re coming to our wedding. No argument.”

Cherry, bless her, just smiled and sat down next to me.

“What the hell did you say to Gary?” I asked in amazement when the lovebirds had left.

“Oh, I just pointed out that with Darren’s past career, there might be people—cruel, heartless people—who would say the white was wholly inappropriate, and did he really want to expose his fiancé to that sort of unkind gossip?” She smiled smugly. “I said I thought Darren was far more sensitive than people give him credit for, and Gary wouldn’t want to ruin their special day for his loved one, would he? I might also have mentioned
Fantasy Island
reruns, and how they were perhaps not the best source of style advice. And then I just went on about how suave Darren would look in darker colours.”

Thank God I’d filled her in on a few details about Darren on the way over. “You’re a marvel, Sis. I owe you for that. Well, technically Gary and Darren owe you, but they’re mates, so…”

“Don’t be silly. I just like to help.” She frowned. “Oh, and the lady at the bar asked me for my phone number. I gave it to her, obviously, but do you think it was legal advice she wanted or, well…”

We both glanced over at Harry’s granite features. She gave us a nod that didn’t give anything away.

“Nah,” I said. “Legal advice. Bound to be. You’re not her type.”

Cherry still looked dubious.

“I’ll make sure I mention you’re engaged, next time I’m in,” I promised.

By the time we finally got back home, I don’t think either Cherry or me had a lot of enthusiasm left for clearing the spare room out. But it didn’t take too long in the end to shift a manageable amount of junk and put fresh sheets on the bed. Once we were done, I settled down on the sofa for the more important job of keeping Arthur happy while Cherry got herself settled in.

I was just beginning to regret not having made sure the TV remote was in reach before he’d plonked his furry ton-and-a-half on my lap, when Cherry walked into the living room. Arthur’s ears twitched, but other than that, he remained unmoved by her presence. Merlin was still sulking somewhere. Bloody diva. “Pass us the remote, will you?” I asked with a winning smile that faded when I saw Cherry was carrying her phone.

Cherry flushed when she saw my look. “I gave Gregory a ring,” she said, all defensive before I’d even got around to saying anything. “Just to let him know I was here. He’d be expecting me to be at home, and I didn’t want him turning up there and worrying.” She shoved her phone back in her handbag, avoiding my gaze.

I’d paused midstroke. Arthur’s ears pricked, and he kneaded my lap with his paws, probably to remind me he had claws in there and wasn’t afraid to use them. “Right… Are you sure it was a good idea to tell anyone you’re here?”

“Gregory’s not just
anyone
. You can’t possibly think he had anything to do with the poisoning.”

“Um.”

“Don’t be absurd. He’s a
clergyman
.”

“What, and you’ve never seen one of them in the dock, in your line of work?”

“Well, yes, but this is
Gregory
. He has a vocation. And he’s the gentlest man you could ever meet.”

Oh, sod it. “Listen, there’s something I ought to tell you. I went to see Greg on my own, while you were in hospital—no, wait, it was after you’d gone to Mum and Dad’s. Whatever. Anyway…” I took a deep breath. “He took me up in that cathedral roof, and I bloody near came down the quick way. I’m not saying he tried to kill me, mind,” I said quickly as she paled. “Just, well, that’s two of us who’ve nearly died while in old Greg’s company. Bit of a coincidence, innit?”